


Francis

by guardianstar



Category: Call of Cthulhu (Cyanide Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Fix-It of Sorts, Hospitals, Medical Experimentation, Medical Trauma, Mental Institutions, Psychological Horror, also francis doesn't die because I don't want him to, basically just a rewrite of the first Shambler scene in the hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianstar/pseuds/guardianstar
Summary: Francis' throat was raw from screaming and his whole body ached by the time the explosion finally pulled Dr Fuller's attention away. There was a frustrated sigh and the familiar clink of tools being moved on a table that made him flinch involuntarily. His head was pounding and a moan he didn't recognise as his own escaped him. He needed to get back to his room."I can't leave those incompetent imbeciles alone for even five minutes," the doctor snapped, irritated by the interruption. "I won't be long. I trust you won't be going anywhere."Francis felt a hand pat his head in an almost soothing manner, but the touch made him cringe. Fingers too close to his eyes. Then the hand was gone, replaced with the sound of footsteps and a door being opened and closed. As afraid as the doctor made him feel, being alone in the open only made Francis feel more in danger. "It's coming," he whispered.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Francis

Francis tried to curl inwards against the pain, but the confines of the straight-jacket only let him move so far. He felt exposed on the operating chair and wished he could return to his cell, where he was safest. He knew he'd carved the protective symbols well, The Shambler hadn't been able to reach him yet, but here... it was only a matter of time before that demon found him. If only he could see! He may have been able to sneak back while he was alone... no, it was better to be without his sight. Not that it helped. He could still see it... he could always see it... it lurked in the darkness behind his eyelids, it waited for him in his dreams... It is watching, always.

Doctor Fuller was not his priority nor his greatest concern, but that didn't stop him from flinching at the sound of a door opening and closing nearby. Was he back already? For more of his... experiments? Francis tried to suppress a shudder and was glad for a moment that the straight-jacket would at least hide the tremble in his hands. He didn't know what they were injecting him with, but they made his thoughts and nightmares worse. The air tasted bad in this place. He needed to get out- NO! This was the only place that was safe. His cell... his cell... God, they were going to inject him with something again. The needles, oh god help him, his body ached with the things they had done to him. Enough, please, let him rest, let him hide....

He swallowed, the blood in his mouth doing nothing to soothe the ache in his dried throat. When had he last been fed? When did he last drink? "Doctor... is that you?" 

"Don't you worry about the doctor," a stranger's voice replied, hard with barely-restrained anger. Francis cringed back slightly. A stranger? He didn't recognise his voice, was it a new guard? The people who worked in this place were vile and never kind, he had no desire to have any part in another one of their sick fantasies. "Right now, he'll have plenty to keep him busy with his precious machine." The explosion? So it wasn't the Shambler coming for him, thank God. "It gives us time to get away. I'll undo you."

Ah, so he wasn't here to inflict more pain, this man's fantasy was to free him? Like a caged bird? Francis couldn't hold back a laugh, too weak and too pained to be mistaken for true amusement. Perhaps the stranger was an escaped inmate then? Good. But his kindness was misplaced. There was no escaping for him. "Get away? Get away where? I can't go anywhere." Nowhere the beast couldn't see him. He needed to get back to his cell, to his safety. "It will find me, like it found me here." It'll be here soon, they had to get away. This man probably thought Doctor Fuller was the worst danger. How laughable! He had to warn him, this man, he needed to get away! "You're mistaken about the beast," he managed to say at last, the words always coming out painfully. The Doctor is not the one he should be worried about! It is that beast, that demon, he needs to get out of here before it comes for him. "Don't stay with me," he begged, "or you'll end up the same way." 

But the man didn't understand the danger he was in, didn't understand the urgency. "You're Sanders, aren't you? I heard you from my cell." So he _was_ the new inmate? What had happened to the last one? Same as always, the pain, the screaming, the nightmares, and then silence, endless silence, and all your little pieces go to the doctor and his work. We're the same as the rats, down here, lab rats maybe, all the same. The experiments meddled with his thoughts, making it harder to focus, so he almost didn't hear the man's questions, "What did they do to you? What does Fuller want with you?"

Again, he had to hold back a laugh, choking instead. "The doctor?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "You think it's the _doctor_ who scares me?!" He thought about the experiments, the injections, his eyes... "The doctor wants to heal me... But he's the one who's crazy. He wants to restore my sight! He wants to give me back my eyes!" Didn't he understand why he'd clawed them out in the first place?! If seeing is believing and believeing is truth, well, he would rather be blind than know this creature. To allow it to know him? Better to be blind than know the horrible things that lurk behind the curtain... "I _told_ him I didn't want them! I don't want to see it anymore!"

He took another ragged breath, trying to push himself up in the chair with his feet, but they felt numb. He felt fragile. He couldn't stop the shaking. For a moment the fear twisted into rage as he recalled what brought him here. _Who_ brought him here. He spat the name out like it was foul. "Sarah! The real culprit is Sarah. Her and her accursed paintings!" The image of the Shambler flashed behind his eyes and he cringed again, deflating back to his trembling. His cell...

The man didn't understand. "You're kidding me? You're talking about Sarah Hawkins?"

He couldn't know, no one knew, they thought him mad, but he knew, he knew and _she_ knew. "The one and only," he confirmed, twisted and bitter. "The legendary." He was quoting himself, from months ago, his voice would drip with such awe and praise, enough to make his own wife jealous. His beloved... Sarah was a stain on his life even before he could see it. Even when he could see. Why did he have to insist on owning that cursed painting? "There is no artist more enlightened... or cursed... than Sarah Hawkins."

"In her office I saw signs of a ritual... perhaps an invocation" the man said slowly, uncertainly. He didn't know of what he was speaking. "These things, that's what makes you say she's cursed?"

"You're wrong," Francis shook his head tipping it back against the head rest in frustration. "It was not an _in_ vocation but a _re_ vocation." She was trying to banish the beast back to the confines of that painting. Back to its own world... but nothing can get in the way of that creature. It can go anywhere it pleases. It lurks in the dark spaces behind our eyes, stalks our dreams. "But, she failed. And that's what counts."

"What's going on on this island?!" The stranger asked, bewildered, voice thick with confusion. His voice was close. Francis couldn't help but tense at his presence, not while in this chair.

But still, he recognised the naive innocence of this man. He knew nothing. He should have never been involved. He should leave this island as soon as he's free and never look back. "I'm so sorry," he said, hoping his voice was genuine. "We should never have met."

"What are you talking about?"

"Destiny!" He snapped, angry and afraid for the man in front of him, a man he would never see. "It has trapped you! Don't let it see you or you won't be able to escape it!" He uncurled his body and tried to lean towards the man's voice to express his urgency. He could feel it watching him, it was only a matter of time before it came. He had to save this man. Let one innocent life be spared. "Don't look at it! That's how it finds you!" Don't get involved, don't go hunting for the answers you seek! They will only break you like they've broken me.

" _What_ finds me?"

"Sarah Hawkins visitor!" He hissed, trembling harder than ever. " _The Shambler!_ " God, it was coming for him now, he could feel it. It was starving. He shouldn't have spoken its name.

"Sanders!" The stranger snapped, noticing the way he was coming apart in front of him. "Pull yourself together!" He needed to get back to his cell. But there was no time. Not anymore.

"Without her," without Sarah, "It's no longer possible to save me." She was the only one who could have killed it. Could have banished it. If only that thing were to die, Francis could go back to his wife. Oh how he missed her. But she needed to be safe. Don't let her come to harm, please, oh god.

The stranger may have been about to say something else, but they were interrupted by the sound of Doctor Fuller's voice outside.

"The doctor is returning. If you plan to escape you better leave now."

"I can't just leave you here!" The man insisted, but he sounded so strained, like even he knew he wouldn't have the time to carry them both out of here. Knowing how the doctor treated his patients, he probably didn't have the strength to get very far without help anyway.

"You must! Don't look back! Don't let destiny find you!" He heard footsteps and gritted his teeth. Don't look at it. Don't look at it. Don't look at it.

He curled in on himself again, as far as his clothing would allow, and listened as two doors opened and shut. Footsteps approached him and he heard someone sigh, the doctor.

"I'm afraid today's operation will have to be postponed, my friend," Doctor Fuller said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I was hoping to make some real progress but it appears there has been some serious trouble with my equipment, no doubt caused by these _imbeciles_ we employ at this institute." He let out another breath of frustration as several hands took hold of Francis and forcibly lifted him out of the operating table. He felt himself shrink under their grip and instinctively flinched away, which only made their fingers tighten in a way he knew would leave bruises.

He didn't have the strength to walk and ended up having to be dragged back to his cell. He sagged with relief as soon as his toes met padded flooring, despite the way the guards carelessly allowed him to drop on the ground in a heap moments later.

"Hey, uh, do you know if Doctor Fuller asked for any other patients to be removed from their cells?" Francis heard one of the guards ask as they locked his door shut.

"Huh?" Came their genius response, before a quieter, " _oh shit._ "

Seems like they'd noticed how the opposite cell was now empty. Good.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I wrote this back in May but never uploaded it because I didn't think it was good enough to post. Today is the day I decide to post it anyway, because making something that isn't great is still better than making nothing. I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> I had vague ideas for a follow-up in mind, but this works fairly well as a one-shot so I guess we'll just see how it goes! If you liked this and think a second chapter would be cool and don't mind if it's bad, please let me know in the comments!


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